


Passionate Words

by Cyberra, gatekat



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Bondage, Dirty Talk, Kink Meme, Knights of Light, M/M, PWP, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberra/pseuds/Cyberra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatekat/pseuds/gatekat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Knights of Light.<br/>When Drift lets go one night in the berth, he and Wing learn something new.<br/>For <a href="http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12370176?12370176">http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12370176?12370176</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Passionate Words

Drift shuddered as he thrust as deeply as he could into the pliant, eager white jet pinned under him. He'd never understand. He'd accepted that much. Just like Wing could never fully understand what the gutters and war did to a mech, he'd never understand _this_.

It felt so good though, to share rather than take. Even though the position of having Wing with his chest on the berth and aft in the air was the same as taking, it wasn't anything like it had been with _anyone_ else Drift had sunk into. "So tight," Drift hissed, oblivious to the fact that he was speaking out loud as he thrust into his moaning lover. "Too tight for such a slut."

Wing's air vents hitched slightly, his golden optics widening. That was new. He'd never heard Drift talk like that before. Those words caused a funny feeling in Wing, tingling along his circuits. "Never heard any complaints about it." He arched his back, pressing into Drift's driving thrusts.

For a fraction of a klik Drift froze, his own optics widening as he realized what he _said_ to Wing. "I ... oh frag," he hissed under his vents, then shivered when Wing pressed his hips up and back and cycled his valve calipers to get him to move again. The truth. Wing's taken a lot worse from him. Another insistent bump of Wing's hips and Drift began to move again, though more slowly. "You ... don't mind? The talk."

"I've never had anyone talk to me like that," the white jet confessed, tilting his helm to look back at Drift through bright, molten gold optics. "But... I think I like it."

"Good," Drift actually moaned. His fingers tightened on Wing's hips and he drove forward, deep and hard. "Is there anyone that _hasn't_ spilled inside you?" his tone shifted, the harmonics insulting, but his field was a direct contradiction. "I bet you wore your first one out."

"First one... wore me out," Wing moaned out in response, the sentence broken in two by a sharp gasp. "But there were... ooh!... plenty of volunteers to help me work on my stamina." A heat he'd never felt before was spreading through his circuits at Drift's tone of voice.

"The bigger the better, I bet," Drift hissed at him, something very real and very strong flickering dimly under the heat and lust as he pounded into his lover and let himself indulge. He'd never felt sure enough with Wing to do this, but to have it be _wanted_?

"Very much so," Wing purred. "Ooooh." He arched his back, shifting the angle slightly.

Drift shivered again and groaned at the pleasure built. "Pits, Wing, do you have _any_ standards at all?"

At the question, the jet's frame trembled as he tried to simultaneously laugh and moan. "Ask any other Knight if I have standards in my berth, and they will just laugh at you."

"Of course. You let _me_ in it," Drift rumbled. "You let a _Decepticon_ pin you, ravish you, mark you in every way as _his_. You are mine, you know. They all do. You're _my_ slut. My little whore, spreading your legs for anything I want, anywhere I want to take you."

That got another deep moan from Wing. It had been a long time since the charge had built this quickly. "Take me. Mark me. Prove I'm yours," he purred back, using that sultry tone that sent shivers up and down Drift's backstrut.

A low, deep growl of Drift's engine responded. He leaned down and bit Wing's right wing hard enough to leave a mark. "I'm going to fill you up, make you so sore you'll never _look_ at anyone else," he snarled, the emotion and intent very real. "You'll walk around with my transfluid splattered on your armor, running down your legs, coating your face," he grunted, his rhythm breaking for a moment before he caught it again. "'m goin' to drill you so hard you won't move right for a metacycle my dirty little whore."

The white jet's whole frame trembled, his field expressing exactly how much he liked the sound of that. He tried to respond, but only succeeded in producing a staticky whine. His armor fluffed out, heat shimmering over his plating, overload rapidly bearing down on him.

"You're pathetic," Drift hissed, pounding into those white hips as hard as he could, his fingers digging into the armor with far more strength than he'd ever allowed himself with Wing before. "Getting off on this. Getting off on being told what a slut you are, how everyone knows they don't even have to pay for your valve or mouth. Any real mech would charge for a service, but not you." He shuddered, the charge crackling across his armor, creating lines and distortions in his vision and voice. "Even a buymech has enough pride to know they're worth _something_ , and they're the lowest of the low."

Wing's whole frame stiffened, his keen breaking into static as his vocalizer shorted out. The calipers of his valve clamped down _hard_ on Drift's spike as the strongest overload Wing had experienced for quite a while crashed over him. His optics flared white, energy crackling and crawling over his plating. He was only distantly aware of the roar that rattled the entire room or the surge of hot transfluid into his valve, but he caught and remembered the flare of Drift's field. The intensity to it. How much Drift got off on the so very un-Knight like words.

Slowly, as the overload began to release them, they both sank forward, Drift still deep inside Wing as he rested on the jet's back, pinning him to the berth. "So you liked that?" Drift's vocalizations were a bit slurred, but his field marked it as a very serious question.

"That was... quite an enjoyable experience," the Knight murmured, his frame almost completely limp under the heavier grounder. "I've never had anyone talk to me like that while interfacing. I think, of all the lovers I've had, only one or two have ever even let a profanity slip out during overload."

"Figures," Drift chuckled in honest amusement with only a faint touch of the derisive harmonics that had once been thick about anything involving the city or Knights. He lightly stroked Wing's side where his hand fell and nuzzled whatever part of Wing's back was under his cheek. "It's ... a really potent thing for me," he murmured, a hint of how much power he viewed the admission as containing in his field and tonalities. "More with you than anyone else."

Slender white wings vibrated against Drift's plating as Wing purred. "Quite potent from the receiving end, too," he chirred in response. "I liked it. Very much. And I wouldn't mind hearing more of it." Tilting his helm, he batted his optics at the other mech.

Drift hummed softly, his field answering that more would be coming. With a grunt he lifted himself off Wing and flopped to his side next to him. Claiming a heated kiss, one hand found a wing to stroke.

The stroked wing stretched eagerly into Drift's hand, Wing settling himself on the berth in such a way that petting was easier. A soft hum rose from his vocalizer as he sidled closer to Drift, his field pulsing eagerly against Drift's.

With a gentler expression that Wing had seen on his lover/project, Drift lifted his hand from the wing and stroked a finger down Wing's cheek. "What lines don't you want me to cross?" his tone was serious, the sub harmonics warning of grave consequences to an untruthful answer.

"Don't touch my spark," Wing murmured, tilting his helm into Drift's hand and nuzzling his palm. "That's something I've never done with anyone. Physically... I have very few boundaries. Though Redline erupts most spectacularly when I show up in his medbay if interfacing gets too rough." One optic shuttered in a wink. "There's not much I won't do."

Drift nodded, his field quivering in shock that sparks had even been mentioned. That was so far past accepted even in his world that it never occurred to him. Another kiss, this one softer and shorter than before. "I won't go near your spark," he promised.

As fast as flipping a switch, Drift hardened and his excitement flared hot and bright. He crushed his mouth against Wing's in a fierce, demanding kiss, harder than anything they'd exchanged before. Wing squeaked in surprise at the abrupt change of mood, then returned the kiss equally fiercely. Dark hands came up to stroke over Drift's armor, tracing the planes and angles, his field bright and hot and eager.

When the kiss broke Drift rolled back slightly, staring at him with bright optics. "Get your favorite fake spike," he rumbled, thick and hot.

It took Wing a klik to get his bearings back enough to process the question. "...What?" He blinked at Drift for a moment before golden optics brightened. Scooting off the berth, he reached for the chest hidden under it.

It had been interesting the first time Drift had discovered that particular chest. Wing had taken an image capture of the grounder's expression and it still made him grin when he thought about it. Humming to himself, the jet rooted through the chest's contents, finally coming up with a large fake spike, its surface ridged and textured to stimulate every sensor node in his valve, and big enough to stretch his valve almost to the limit.

He saw Drift give it a serious look, his expression all too clear: so long as that thing is for _you_. Which, of course, it was.

"Come here," Drift rumbled, patting the berth a bit lower than Wing usually rested. It was clue enough on what the mech intended. Wing was going to get a mouthful. The white jet flowed back onto the berth, watching Drift. Settling into place, Wing flared his audial fins, tilting his helm to one side as Drift took the toy and set it aside. He pushed Wing down and kissed him, hard and demanding, his field to his frame demanding absolute submission and promising pain if it wasn't given.

Even as he willingly relaxed, excited and eager, Wing realized that this was probably much closer to what most of Drift's berthmates felt from him. Only they probably hadn't been nearly so willing. Despite that, Wing could also feel, on some level, that Drift was being careful with him. He knew well how strong the frame against his was, and through he was a far better fighter and faster than Drift, Drift was stronger, heavier and much better armored. Once Drift got his hands on Wing, it was Wing that was at the disadvantage and he never completely lost awareness of the fact.

It seemed that Drift was just as aware of it, for despite the appearance of not caring, he did.

The kiss broke with a nip to Wing's lower lip and Drift lifting up to kneel, looking down at his lover. "Stroke yourself," he rumbled, thick with desire for whatever scene was setting itself in his processors. "Make a display of yourself, but no touching your valve."

Golden optics blinked, slender wings fluttering slightly. Wing settled back, hands lifting to stroke over his own chest armor, tracing the outlines of his nosecone and fuselage. One dark hand wandered down to his pelvis, tracing the outlines of his interface hatch and spike cover. Wing's gaze never moved from Drift's, watching the grounder watch him. Feeling the lust and heat spiral hot and high.

Oh yes, Drift _liked_ this, and Wing had little doubt it was for more than the simple display. Drift's world was all about power and dominance, about taking, keeping and losing. Giving was not a glyph he comprehended, though he was gradually building a rudimentary grasp of it through Wing's constant efforts.

What greater power was there than to command through voice alone?

Slender white wings gave an intricate wiggle as Wing's fingers traced the edge of his spike cover. The cover slid back, allowing the jet's fingers to dip inside, a soft moan escaping as his fingertips brushed over the tip of his spike. The stimulation combined with what Wing could feel in Drift's field fed the white Knight's perpetual, simmering arousal, triggering his spike to pressurize out of its housing into his waiting hand. Wing's other hand, which had remained on his chest armor, slid under a red-trimmed plate to hook into his own circuitry, teasing and tugging lightly at the wiring.

He felt the shiver from Drift more than saw it. Blue optics were bright and fixated and a low, rumbling moan vibrated out from that powerful grounder engine.

"Yes," Drift's word was a hissed pleasure as he moved to the top of the berth, above Wing's helm, and knelt there, watching for another long moment, his hands idly tracing patterns on Wing's helm and audial fins.

A purr threaded into Wing's soft moans as he leaned his helm into Drift's hands. His own hand worked along the length of his red-trimmed spike, kneading and stroking its length, while the other continued to work into his own circuitry. The white jet's frame squirmed slightly, wings flaring and fluttering, his gaze still on Drift. The blaze he was creating in the other's optics and frame was more of a turn-on than Wing had ever anticipated.

"Such a pretty little thing, so wanton," Drift purred, his voice darkening, the harmonics that of an insult but his field encouraging. He shifted his frame forward and tipped Wing's helm back so his spike pressed against pristine white lip plates. "You want it so bad you'll even service yourself when you can't get anyone to take what's on offer." He pressed in, playing at making it forced even though Wing was greedily trying to swallow more of him. "You must be so pathetic that mecha won't fill you up even when you're spread out and begging for it."

Wing mock-whined, tilting his helm to take in as much of Drift's spike as he could. His glossa flicked over the tip, lips busily working along the length and over the tip. Slender wings wiggled almost frantically against the berth, the jet's nacelles revving high, filling the air with the tang of jet engine and sending vibrations through his frame into Drift's. Wing's hands never stilled, continuing to work his own spike and circuitry. His valve cover had opened on its own, lubricant leaking out around the platelets and forming a puddle under him.

"I heard that," Drift grinned triumphantly and thrust forward until Wing's lips were sealed against the spike housing. "Oh Primus you are such a sexy slut," he trembled in pleasure, optics locked on Wing's spike and the hand teasing it. "You'll do anything to get something in that valve, won't you? Anything at all."

With his mouth full, Wing's response came as a full-frame squirm and a flailing of slender wings. He never could hold still, especially while interfacing, his frame shivering and undulating against the berth. Energy was beginning to nip at his systems as he applied himself to Drift's spike, determined to take the grounder over the edge with him. He was rewarded with a grunt from above and several thrusts as Drift's arousal began to claim him.

"What is it that you imagine being in that overused valve?" Drift growled and purred, losing himself in the physical pleasure and the heat that talking this way created in him. "Is it me? Or maybe it's a bigger mecha. Axe or Shogun ... maybe even Dai Atlas." Drift shivered in a desire that had nothing to do with reality. "Yes, I bet you want that big mech, the biggest in the city, to fill you up until you scream."

That got him another shiver and a hard rev of powerful jet engines. Fluttering wings beat a tattoo against the berth, a muffled keen rising from Wing's vocalizer as he gave a particularly hard suck on Drift's spike, his back arching.

"Oh, that's it," Drift moaned deeply and leaned forward, his hands flat by Wing's side as he began to pump into the mouth lavishing attention on him. It also gave him a much better view of the white and red spike Wing was so carefully teasing. "Do you use your Great Sword when you can't get a mech?" A particularly hard thrust, the words and uttering them doing as much for Drift as the physical attention. That fact alone was enough to amaze him. He'd long known he liked to talk dirty, but it was never _this_ good.

"Is that what polishes it to such a shine? Your lubricant. Do you ride that pommel, make love to it like it's your mate?" Drift grunted out, shuddering in his pleasure and close to the edge.

Wing's back arched right off the berth, his wings stretched out to their full span and quivering. The spike in his mouth muffled his near-shriek of overload, intake clamping down on the spike's tip as transfluid erupted from his own spike, spattering over his armor. Charge sizzled over his plating, leaping off onto Drift's frame. 

It was all Drift needed to topple over the edge with him. The grounder's deep roar echoed around the room, clearly audible to those nearby, but no one paid any heed. The harmonics of pleasure made it a welcome sound to the Knights that heard it. He gave a few more thrusts, each pumping a burst of transfluid into his lover's intake, before sagging into a post-overload bliss.

"You really do get off on that," Drift murmured a bit in amazement as he withdrew his spike and flopped to his side to look at the panting, quivering jet next to him.

The white Knight gave him a bright grin, turning onto his side and curling into Drift as the grounder shifted so their helms were close. "Surprisingly enough, I do. That's a kink even I was unaware of."

A bit of a smirk slid across Drift's mouth. "So I taught you something, about yourself."

Wing laughed, leaning over to nip teasingly at Drift's lips and found himself kissed hotly in reply. "And a rather interesting lesson it was."

"Ready for another lesson?" Drift rumbled, his hands playing over fluttering wings.

"If it's as interesting as the last lesson, of course." Wing's voice hit that shiver-inducing sultry tone again, his wings pressing into Drift's hands.

"Possibly," Drift rumbled back and reached over to lift up the false spike. "Unless you really would rather use a sword hilt."

"I've never gotten that desperate," Wing retorted playfully, shifting on the berth to present his valve for the toy. Bright optics watched Drift with interest, the jet's purr picking up.

"Tell me, who do you imagine when you're using this?" Drift rumbled, playing the toy's bulbous tip down Wing's chest.

"About half the Knights," the white flier replied promptly. He flashed Drift a mischievous grin. "Especially the bigger ones." Bright optics watched every move from the grounder as the false spike traveled down, eventually caressing Wing's still pressurized spike from time to base.

"Take it," Drift whispered to him. "Give me a show. Show me how much of a slut you are, how badly you want to be filled."

Wing whined at the touches, angling his hips into it. His bared valve was leaking lubricant steadily from around the platelets, the calipers inside cycling restlessly. The fingers of one hand gripped at the berth covers while the other hand slid down Drift's arm to take the false spike from him. Shifting on the berth, Wing slid it lower, a soft moan escaping as he lightly traced his valve rim with the tip.

"Is that how you want me to be?" Drift whispered huskily in Wing's audial, his hands sliding along Wing's sleek frame. "Slow, teasing ... _gentle_? Or am I that ruffian, the gutter trash that you turn to when you want something these elites can't give you?"

The jet's vents hitched briefly as he tried to press into Drift's hands and the toy at the same time. His wingtips thumped against the berth as he pressed the toy through the platelets, sliding it into his valve with one smooth movement. The white-armored frame shifted, legs spreading wider.

"You're one Pit of a tease in your own way," Wing retorted almost breathlessly, optics gleaming up at the heavier mech. "You're _my_ ruffian."

"Yes, I am," Drift murmured, his field thick with how much of an admission, a _surrender_ , those words were. "You are _my_ jet," he growled into a hard kiss. " **Mine**."

The white Knight purred, returning the kiss as his hand set a hard, fast pace with the false spike. A moan escaped into the kiss as Wing's backstrut arched slightly.

"Yours," Wing murmured into Drift's mouth, just loud enough to catch.

The kiss broke with a nip on Wing's lip plates. His optics on the false spike sliding in and out of his lover, Drift made his way to the top of the berth and settled over Wing's face. His valve cover slid open, the rarely-used parts behind it slightly slick and wanting.

Without hesitation Wing craned his neck to press his lips against the bared platelets, his free hand lifting to catch Drift's hip and tug him down a bit, into easier reach. The Knight's glossa slid out, sliding over the platelets, teasing the edges and lapping up the traces of lubricant that had seeped out. His other hand maintained its steady rhythm, his hips rolling into each inward thrust of the false spike.

"I don't share well," Drift rumbled down at him, his field bright and alive with arousal, desire and a possessiveness that was relatively new. "I'll have to punish you when you turn to others. You are _my_ slut, Wing. My little wanton whore. Mine is the only designation you'll scream in bliss from now on."

That got him a hard rev of Wing's engines, the sound rising to a near-scream before spooling back down to a high rev. The fingers of the hand on Drift's hip slid into the joint, stroking over the gyros and the hydraulics and the wiring. Wing purred against Drift's valve platelets, the tip of his glossa working its way between the thin, sensitive plates of metal into the valve itself, immediately seeking out the closest sensor node to tease.

His efforts earned him a low moan. Despite being sensitive from rare use, touch here was also linked to a long life of painful memories for Drift. It wasn't easy to feel the pleasure, but he _wanted_ to. Another moan escaped Drift when Wing's glossa found another sensor along the rim, and shivered at the sharp flash of pleasure it caused.

"I bet you'd rather do this, lick another out, than bury your spike in there," Drift hissed, shaking in the grip of warring sensations from past and present. "To be _used_ is what you want, isn't it? To be used for another's pleasure. You should have been a pleasurebot, but you don't know how to bargain. Don't know the value of your own frame."

Wing muffled a whine against Drift's valve platelets, sucking lightly on the rim before his glossa delved in deeper, stroking over the flexible walls and teasing at every sensor node it encountered. His other hand faltered in its rhythm with the false spike as Wing tried to split his attention between it and what his glossa was doing, then steadied again.

"I suppose I should teach you," Drift shivered, his frame trying to shift to find the best position for this rarely felt pleasure. His processors were on that false spike though, watching it slide in and out of the valve he so enjoyed using. He imagined it was him and his spike demanded attention. He ignored it though, intent on feeling the same pleasure Wing was, or at least as close to it as he was ready to tolerate.

"Would it make you hotter if I was controlling that false spike?" Drift moaned, his optics flickering slightly as his hip cable tensed. "Maybe I should take all your toys away so you can only come to me." His hips began to rock into the glossa's contact as the pleasure warmed his frame. "How often would you spread your legs then?"

Slender wingtips beat a rapid tattoo against the berth, Wing's frame writhing slightly. The jet's engines throbbed, pulsing vibrations through his frame and into Drift's, Wing's glossa vibrating against the nodes of Drift's valve. His other hand picked up the pace with the false spike. He was close, much closer than his lover.

Above him Drift groaned and leaned forward, his optics locked on the slide of the false spike. His hips rolled into the glossa working him and he felt how close Wing was. It was a bit off script, but worth it. Bracing on one hand he slid the other to his spike and began stroking. The first touch was electric, pure pleasure and heat.

Yes, the scene was a good idea, but this part hadn't been realistic enough.

Another whine and a flare of Wing's field indicated the rapid building of charge in his systems, overload ready to crash over him. Shifting his helm, Wing pressed his lips against Drift's valve platelets, purring hard, glossa delving in as far as he could reach, trying to share his bliss.

The grounder moaned, shivering as the charge leapt to his frame from his lover. His fingers closed, stroking harder, faster, and he leaned down more to catch some of the charge leaping off Wing on his spike.

Fingers curled against the berth, Drift lost track of everything but the charge and heat building inside him, blooming with a roar as an overload crashed through him, pumping his transfluid out to mix with Wing's on the jet's frame.

The white Knight's frame stiffened under Drift as overload crashed through him, feeding off Drift's. Charge leaped back and forth between them. It took a long klik for Wing's joints to unlock, allowing him to sink back down onto the berth. He blinked up at Drift, ignoring the lubricants smeared around his mouth and the transfluid spattered over his armor.

Above him Drift groaned and awkwardly flopped to his side to take his weight off Wing. "That was fun."

"Very," Wing replied, purring softly. He took a klik to remove the toy from his valve, setting it aside to be cleaned later, then squirmed around and curled up next to Drift, leaning against the grounder's plating as they both cooled.

"We'll do that again," Drift murmured, his systems already shutting down after three hard overloads in quick succession. "Later."

"Sounds like fun." Wing snuggled in as close as he could get away with, carefully resting his helm against Drift's armor and following the grounder into recharge.

**Author's Note:**

> Fandom: Transformers IDW G1  
> Author: gatekat, vaevade on LJ  
> Pairings: Drift/Wing  
> Rating: NC-17  
> Codes: Sticky, Dirty Talk, Bondage, PWP, Kink Meme fill  
> Summary: When Drift lets go one night in the berth, he and Wing learn something new.  
> For <http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12370176?12370176>  
> Disclaimer: The authors are only playing with their own twisted muses. Transformers belong to Hasbro. Fandom-side, check the inspirations page <http://www.gatekat-fics.livejournal.com/290.html> We draw from a ton of amazing stories and authors you should read.  
> nanoklik = 1/8 second;  
> klik = 496 nanokliks/62 seconds;  
> breem = 8 kliks/8.27 minutes;  
> groon = 9 breem/1.24 hours;  
> joor = 6 groon/7.44 hours;  
> orn = 42 joor/13.02 days;  
> decaorn = 32 orns/1.14 years;  
> metacycle = 8 decaorn/9.22 years;  
> vorn = 9 metacycles/72 decaorn/83 years;  
> ::text:: comm chatter  
> ~text~ hardline/bond chatter


End file.
